A Heavy Burden Shared
by BeachMuse
Summary: Euphemia "Effie" Cousland decided to liberate Soldiers Peak before even touching the treaties to end the Blight. Avernus told them everything that being a Grey Warden entailed. Canon divergent from then onwards, they set off to combat the Blight with recruitment on their minds. (Multiple pairings within)
1. Chapter 1

**A Heavy Burden Shared**

 **AU** : _The Warden heads straight to Soldiers Peak and liberates the fortress before doing anything else with the treaties or Blight. Avernus, realising that there's a Blight on, reveals the whole truth of being a Grey Warden to both The Warden and Alistair. He stays behind at Soldiers Peak, he's kept outsiders out for nearly 200 years, and the Warden can send their armies there to amass – they'll be protected. Plus, a secret fortress on the sea is pretty handy. Knowing how important a Warden truly is to stopping the Blight, and with the knowledge on how to create the Joining Ritual, our intrepid group heads off to face the Blight – with recruitment on their minds._

 **Content warnings** : Multiple pairings of all flavours, maybe a triad, language, mentions of abuse, mentions of sexual violence, plenty of bloodshed and death. I'm undecided on smut.

 **Disclaimer** : All intellectual property of this fanfic belongs to Bioware/EA, and I'm just playing with their creations.

* * *

 **Chapter One**

The sharp wind whipped her scarf up and pushed it into her face, the woollen fibres stuck to her cold lips. She glanced to her side and noted that each of the companions who stood with her faced similar issues now that they left the mostly sheltered grounds of Soldiers Peak.

She tore her gaze from them and up to the sky, still dark but for the peach clouds striping the violet and pink ombre sky that hinted at the coming dawn. She recalled that the sky looked quite different when they'd set off on their first naïve steps into combatting the Blight. Maker, but it felt like a much different quest than the one they'd decided to start less than a month ago, in the Korcari Wilds.

The red haired archer caught up to her side, and gave her a polite smile. "Good morning, Effie, I hope Avernus did not keep you both up too late last night?"

She smiled back, weakly, and shrugged her pack higher up her back. "Ah, so you didn't overhear us? Mostly he was going over the Joining Ritual. But I don't think half of it really sank in for Alistair." The two ladies looked over their shoulders and back at the tall young man trudging behind them, not out of earshot but minding his own business. He looked exhausted already, like he'd not slept, though he'd still taken the time to brush his hair. "Makers blood, he looks like I feel, Leliana. Do I look like that too?"

"When we get past the snow drifts, we should stop for lunch, we have plenty of rations and it already feels like breakfast was hours ago." Leliana braced a hand up as another gust of wind hit them, and she held fast to her hood. "A good idea, yes?"

"A great idea. It should make us all feel better." She noticed that the archer didn't answer her question.

They slipped back into a comfortable silence, and she fell back into thought. Euphemia Cousland often fell into thought, then would inevitably fall over.

There were not many of them, and she barely knew any of them beyond names and what they'd revealed of themselves to her. Though, she hoped herself a decent judge of character given her newly formed scepticism. There were only the five of them, six – if you included Faust, the mabari warhound – though that also included herself.

She, Euphemia, known as Effie, was the de facto leader of the unlikely group. The spare child of the Cousland family, well educated, well trained as a warrior, and still she'd not seen the betrayal that saw her ancestral home sacked by their closest ally and friend. Nobody had seen it coming. But a modicum of personal guilt was there, festering in the back of her throat. Now she'd been recruited into the order of the Grey Wardens and found herself tasked with ending the Fifth Blight.

Her second, though he might contest that fact, was Alistair. She knew little of him personally, and beyond a cautious questioning at Ostagar to quell her nerves, he was a stranger to her. A former Templar who was glad to be a Grey Warden. Effie thought him rather sarcastic and cheery prior to the events that saw the two of them alone in the Korcari Wilds. He was distraught after the death of Duncan, he says as much. So far, he'd been welcoming, and kind, in a distant way. In another world, she might have thought him sweet or charming in the way one thought of puppies. Faust liked the blond man, and for the moment that was a seal of approval. Effie hoped to understand him better, and maybe become his friend.

They weren't alone, per se, in the Korcari Wilds though. They'd been, well, for lack of a better phrase, given an apostate mage to look after. An unwilling apostate mage. Morrigan, was a hedge witch, a shape shifter, and apparently was the daughter of the fabled witch, Flemeth. Part of Effie believed that, though she wasn't sure if her belief had anything to do with it. Morrigan's mother saved Alistair and herself, and in exchange wanted the two wardens to look after her daughter, if any of them were happy with this arrangement or not. So whatever had come to pass, Morrigan was with them. Her speech was somewhat archaic, as if she'd learned to speak from books rather than talking, and she lacked even basic empathy. In an odd way, Morrigan was not cruel for the sake of cruelty, but did not suffer oafishness lightly. This made quick rivals of Alistair and the witch.

In Lothering, on their way north from Ostagar, they'd met Leliana. The red-haired archer was an Orlesian minstrel of sorts who had left that life behind to join the cloister as a Chantry Sister here in Ferelden. She claimed to feel that the Maker Himself compelled her to join them. Whether He did or not, Effie liked the woman. She seemed genuinely kind, and oddly mysterious. Frankly, Effie was glad for another skilled arm in combat, but she wondered how such a woman had come about these skills. The other woman put her at ease quickly, and somehow that only served to put Effie on alert, and she damned herself for it.

The last of them, though certainly not least given a height over seven foot, was the Qunari, Sten. He spoke less than anyone else, and they'd found him locked in a cage on the outskirts of Lothering, along with decaying hunks of meat – as a lure to keep the Darkspawn away. He admitted to the crime of murdering an entire family with his bare hands, and accepted his fate to die. Somehow, it seemed like such a waste. Effie smashed the lock on his cage with the pommel of her sword and told the towering Qunari that he should die as a warrior, rather than bait. This – intrigued him – to say the least. He swore to fight with them against the Darkspawn until the debt of his life and the lives he took was repaid, or he died himself. And so – that was it. He didn't complain to dig a short latrine or take watch, and was a finer warrior than any she'd had the honour of seeing at a tourney.

And one couldn't forget Faust. The runt of the litter who decided that she was a better mother than his own kin. Effie made the pup stay with his mother for the milk, but every other second since they'd bonded – was spent at her side. She'd trained him well, and he was the entire reason she'd not died when Highever was sacked. Faust was a honorary Grey Warden, given that the mabari accidentally became tainted in Ostagar and needed an ointment to survive it. Effie cursed herself for not remembering that – and would try to remember for the next time she spoke to Avernus.

The day passed quickly in thought, and they were out of the steep mountain paths and snow by dinner, though they'd not covered the distance Effie hoped they might. Soldiers Peak was a treasure trove for the coin strapped Warden group who had nothing more than their packs and weapons. The former noblewoman sat cross legged on log they'd dragged up to the fire, and poured over the map. Her brows were furrowed as she made a note of their progress and tried to figure out how long it might take to safely get to Kinloch Hold.

Alistair sat next to her, and silently handed a wooden bowl to her. Effie didn't even look before starting to eat, the flavour, even the texture didn't matter. Grey Wardens were constantly famished, it could have been stewed slug for all she cared. "It's a lot to take in. Isn't it?"

She paused. The bowl wasn't nearly as large as – wait. No. Effie carefully folded the map, and tucked it inside her breast pocket. She knew that her thoughts wandered only to avoid dwelling on it. "Yes." She finally settled on. It was her honest answer.

"Do you think, that... That Duncan was going to tell us soon?" Alistair blinked, he wasn't looking at her, his eyes were fixed on the fire, like it might divine the truth to him. Effie snuck in another spoonful of the... Beige and grey in the bowl. She'd eaten worse. "I mean, I don't think he was purposefully keeping it from... Me."

Effie sucked in a deep breath and put herself in the best mind to be neutral on the subject of their late Commander. Alistair clearly looked up to him, no matter her feelings on him, the dead couldn't make amends. "I think he was protecting you." She said diplomatically, she almost believed it. "I honestly doubt he envisioned a world were you or I might be the only two there when the Archdemon falters."

Alistair looked briefly at her, searching her face for a lie, then quickly looked back to the fire. "I have no idea how to contact other Wardens. I don't know if I have the stomach to recruit anyone now, knowing what I know." Alistair gulped. "You're planning on recruiting, aren't you?"

"It'd be foolhardy not to." She soothed, the weight of that sunk down on her shoulders. Avernus created a failsafe version of the Joining Ritual. Everyone would survive taking it. No more pointless deaths like Daveth. "We've seen firsthand how quickly our numbers can be decimated. We need better odds of a Warden making it to the Archdemon. I'll bet you It already knew this. No way would I let the only bastards who could kill me get close if I was some evil dragon God bent on taking over the world."

Alistair snorted at her attempt at glibness. "Can you imagine, it's like a mabari surrounded by ants, but there are bees."

"Like Wardens flying on Griffons."

"That would make it easier." He conceded. "And the mabari just doesn't care, because ants can't hurt it. But a bee could sting it, and – well, bees don't survive." The short lived smile fell off his face. "Why did I try to... Make such a stupid analogy?"

Effie sighed. "Humour, even a poor sense of humour, is the way you try to survive." The words sounded wiser and older than her years. "My mother used to say that about the Occupation. She would say how she couldn't stand my father and... Howe – the way they'd laugh as if it wasn't serious, like they might not die tomorrow. Until it finally twigged for her that if she didn't laugh, all she'd do was cry."

Alistair nodded along. "That makes sense." He paused a moment as if wondering what to say. "They were friends that long then?"

"Fifty years." Effie pursed her lips. "I keep thinking, wondering, if he'd planned this for years. Or if it was some fresh seed of hatred that took root in his heart. I try to marry up these two images of a man who helped teach me how to dance and who ordered his men to butcher a child." The words spilled out, and her face felt hot and taut, but her eyes were dry. "And I find myself trying to not only think of him as a monster that I've been too blind to see for all these years."

She craned her neck up at the sky, taking in deep lungfuls of breath. A selfish part of Effie wanted her to admit that she envied him, for not knowing the man who betrayed his kin – Duncan – it was obvious Alistair thought of the man like a father. She envied how he could instantly paint that man as an inhuman beast. She wasn't deaf, she heard Alistair curse the name of Loghain Mac Tir as he split dry logs for their fire. Cursed him for quitting the battle that saw the Grey Wardens fall. She wished it was that easy. "You can cry. You don't have to laugh." Alistair spoke softly, and she felt his warm hand on her shoulder.

Effie sniffed and shrugged him off. "I cried enough. I'm... Sorry for burdening you. You came to me, and I turned it all around back to my own misfortune. It doesn't matter where I've come from now. Or what dead people did or said to coddle us. We're here, the last two Wardens against the Blight. We need to rebuild our order, and an army." That was herself feeling better, she turned her attention to Alistair. "I'm sure Duncan was a very good commander and like a family to the Grey Wardens. But he's left it up to us, he recruited us both knowing what we know now. It would be disrespectful to his memory if we didn't manage to live up to whatever expectations he had."

It... Worked. Alistair looked far less burdened by the world. Left alone again, Effie returned to the cold beige and grey. She guessed that it was half barley given their rations. She'd eaten worse very recently.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Heavy Burden Shared**

 _ **AU:**_ _The Warden heads straight to Soldiers Peak and liberates the fortress before doing anything else with the treaties or Blight. Avernus, realising that there's a Blight on, reveals the whole truth of being a Grey Warden to both The Warden and Alistair. He stays behind at Soldiers Peak, he's kept outsiders out for nearly 200 years, and the Warden can send their armies there to amass – they'll be protected. Plus, a secret fortress on the sea is pretty handy. Knowing how important a Warden truly is to stopping the Blight, and with the knowledge on how to create the Joining Ritual, our intrepid group heads off to face the Blight – with recruitment on their minds._

 _ **Content warnings:**_ _Multiple pairings of all flavours, maybe a triad, language, mentions of abuse, mentions of sexual violence, plenty of bloodshed and death. I'm undecided on smut._

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _All intellectual property of this fanfic belongs to Bioware/EA, and I'm just playing with their creations._

 _ **Author note:**_ _You'll notice Bodahn is a bit off canon here. *Shrugs* I think he's kind for sure, maybe even fatherly – but he's with the Warden for multiple reasons, and I wanted to better match up his past as a scavenger off dead bodies who hawks off their possessions and his future. Plus I couldn't write the story without him._

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

They started the morning damp, with rain hanging in the air rather than simply getting on with it and falling to the ground. Effie hated hanging rain, somehow it meant that under her waxcloth hood, she was still wet and miserable, she could feel the sheer volume of frizz her hair was turning into. The warrior shivered in her armour, and wished that for one day, she could just rest.

But she only had herself to blame. She wanted to be out of the Soldiers Peak region – in fact out of the North of Ferelden as quickly as was possible. Besides, Howe might have had his men looking out for her, but would they imagine she'd be traveling so hard on this weather? Unlikely. This was probably very safe for them.

Still. Miserable. "Do you smell... Smoked fish?" Effie took a moment to stop. She couldn't get a whiff of anything behind rain and wet flora, plenty of mud. Maybe the faintest hint of smoke? She frowned. "I swear I smell it." Leliana sighed and looked around, as if hoping there was some visual clue, a plume of smoke?

Morrigan muttered something under her breath before speaking up. "Not fifty paces to our left there is a thin line of smoke rising through the treeline." She gave a deep huff. "Given that we are still on the trade route it could be bandits, or merchants."

"Or Howe's men. They might think I'm fool enough to actually use proper roads." Effie added.

"Tis paranoia to think they would look for you here. If I were looking for an enemy who could flee the country on their name alone – I would not think them to remain." Morrigan made a good point, she probably could get on any ship with her family name and promise of handsome payment, and with a Blight on, any sensible person would leave the country if they could. If they believed the Blight was happening – a safe assumption given that it had killed their monarch already. Howe probably hoped she'd died without being identified as a corpse, or had fled without looking back. "Besides, there are plenty of us here who could subdue a patrolling group of his men. Why should he send this many away from a direct Highever to Denerim route?"

"It could still be bandits." Alistair frowned.

"Bandits are no different than we, fugitives with little else but their swordarm and companions." Leliana smiled softly.

Effie chuckled quietly. "And Daveth was a criminal. Duncan conscripted the pickpocket who went for his purse – if needs be, we could conscript any who surrender. That is, should we get into trouble."

"Isn't trouble our middle name?" Alistair laughed.

"Grey Trouble Wardens. A tad redundant given our cause and our status as criminals." Effie grinned back. "I doubt it should be worth it to see who is cooking though. We should skirt around the area and find somewhere to set up camp. The rain will only get worse today."

The tallest member of their group muttered something unintelligible. "Did you have something to add, Sten?" Alistair asked brightly.

"We have been seen." He groaned, and pointed at the base of a fir tree where a round, innocent face was blinking at them. "Should it have been a danger, we would be dead."

Effie furrowed her brows. "I recognise that face." All of a sudden there was a wet thwacking and crunching of twigs, the little face darted out and its owner attempted to whizz through them. Leliana smartly hooked the short figure into her arms. Shortly followed by another figure clumsily falling through the dense trees, this one – with braided beard and slick oilskin coat.

"Sandal, come back here I –" He stopped mid sentence. "Oh..."

Effie stepped forward. "You're the merchant... From Lothering. Your cart was broken when a hurlock came running towards your son and yourself?" Small world, when the Warden group had outstayed their time in Lothering, they left. It was dusky, cool, and they hoped the horde was still far off. But Darkspawn scouts were already surging into the area. They'd encountered the dwarven merchant outside the village, and thought to stay clear of him for safety sake until the human-ish shaped Darkspawn scout lumbered out of the shadows towards the man and his son. The grateful man gave them a flask of ginger wine and all the silver coins he had on him at the time.

The dwarf grinned. "Ancestors I'm a lucky man. Fancy meeting again. And thank you, for catching Sandal." The smaller, much younger dwarf in Lelianas arm rushed over to his father.

"It's Bodahn? Yes? I try not to forget a name of I can help it." Effie gave him her best attempt at a gentle smile, given the rain she probably just looked soggy. "Is that your smoke we could smell?"

His eyes widened. "I left the fire!"

They all jogged round the copse of trees to a large clearing where he'd set up. Thankfully, the fire only crackled gently under the canvas canopy off his wagon, two large fatty fish spitting as their fat melted in the heat. Morrigan crushed the crystalline ice forming in her palm. "I almost thought we might have to put out a wildfire." She sighed, shoulders sagging. Effie tilted her head at the witch, what an odd show of... Fear? "Tis only a concern that a fire would rouse attention from someone with plenty of mettle. Nothing else."

"I will attempt to believe you, Morrigan, thousands would not." Leliana lilted, she carefully let go of Sandal's hand, and the young dwarf sat himself in a wicker chair by the fire. Morrigan sniffed with indignation and strode off. She always made a separate encampment of her own with a personal sized cauldron and tent, today would be no different it seemed. "Did he run for a reason, Bodahn?"

His father shrugged. "I don't know. Something made the lad jump up. Here, come on, I've caught plenty more fish this morning and they cook up nice and quick."

The warden group decided after their fish lunch to set up camp while the rain was still fine, though it was threatening to pour in ropes given the heavy dark clouds. Effie sat under Bodahn's canvas awning, a large mug of soup warning her hands. The merchant was telling her about his time in Orzammar, selling fine items. "–When she exclaims 'that belonged to my brother!' and it turned out that he died in the deep roads." The dwarf with the braided beard looked sheepish, though it wouldn't fool anyone. "It's not stealing."

Effie pondered the correct term, graverobbing perhaps, if the spot where you died was indeed a grave. Desecrating a corpse? It felt... Wasteful to leave it, even if it was a tad distasteful. It wasn't as if they'd not looted plenty of the dead in Soldiers Peak. The she crime separated by a few a centuries of the person turning into a corpse. "Did it ever do the dead any good to be buried with a pocket watch, or a necklace? It does far better good being worn, used – and in your case, being turned into however much you sold it for and then filling your belly." She examined the words as they left her mouth. It was in her nature to be amicable for the sake of it, to say things she didn't feel because she knew it'd be the option wherein the least feelings would be hurt. Maker knew that every time she spoke to Alistair, she pushed her anger, shame, and misery aside to coddle him somewhat because she knew that it would do no good to be cruel to the younger man. But Effie took what she said to heart, testing it internally to see if a single grain of truth ever left her lips. Strangely, it did.

Bodahn grinned and Effie sipped the broth heavy soup. "I'm glad you see it that way. Does no good letting Darkspawn rot our kingdom away. They shouldn't have everything we have."

"Was it her brother's dagger?" She asked.

"She claimed it, and that was enough to have the lad and me suspended from trading in Orzammar for a year. Only six months to go before we can return – if we want to of course." He stroked his braids as he thought. "Say, where are you headed to next? What with this Blight on we thought to hire guards but if you want a wagon that could stow your gear, safe your backs on long journeys, ancestors – if you encounter bandits we might relieve them of what will do us more good than them?" He grinned as if he'd planned on meeting them again and making this very offer. Effie swallowed the soup in her mouth and thought as fast as lightning.

"That would be... A good idea actually. I take it either you or Sandal can sew, should armour or clothing that's, how to put it, reused, needs altering, holes repaired that sort of thing?" She wet her lips. "Any rings, necklaces, watches, loose coin - let's call them valuable items – split eighty-twenty in our favour given that we'll be the ones discovering the unneeded items that require a better life?"

The dwarf laughed, stained teeth baring. "Sixty-forty and I'll follow you into the bowels of Thedas if needs be. And Sandal can sew, bind runes to anything you want, and I can cook almost anything on a campfire."

An incredibly fortuitous turn of events. "We're headed toward Kinloch Hold first, to get plenty of mages for our army, there's a few towns on the way in the Bannorn, and Chanters Boards out in the sticks often ask for bandits to be run off or otherwise dealt with, and knowing our luck, trouble will find us on route too. And can you make plum pudding?"

Bodahn spat on his hand and offered it out. Tradesman's handshake, a nice way to gain the trust of blacksmiths who would hammer out a family crest on a breastplate... Or sword. Effie wasn't stupid, even though she'd been the spare to Fergus as heir, the paranoia of her parents had them teach her how to deal with royalty and stable hands, merchants and grocers – she knew plenty of tricks to make oneself seen trustworthy. She spat on her own hand, and grasped his firmly. "To the best damn plum pudding you'll have all year." He chuckled. "That's a strong hand, you'll have more than this old merchant eating out of it."

"I plan on making one of the Tevinter Old God's eat out of it, think it'll work?" She finished up her soup with an almighty gulp and put it down with a dull thud. "But if you'll excuse me, I've just noticed that one of my, I mean, our – companions has been trying to catch my attention. I'll speak to you anon?"

Bodahn bid her farewell and she tugged up her hood. The rain was still threatening but not pouring down yet. There might be time to address both of the issues she could feel that would need her attention as described facto leader.

But first, Morrigan. Effie noticed that the witch was nowhere to be seen, then by what could only be coincidence, started to emerge from her tent. Effie jogged over. "Can we speak?"

Credit given where it was due, the dark haired apostate could probably make the warmest person feel unwelcome with a stare alone. "If you must, though sit inside, I shan't sleep on a wet floor because we sat chatting with my tent open."

Effie nodded her thanks and ducked inside the cramped tent. Morrigan slinked to the back, and crossed her legs. Effie tucked hers underneath and closed the tent flaps behind her. "A little birdie was sitting inside the wagon. Next to Sandal while he was napping. It didn't even flinch when he moved." Morrigan didn't react. "And yesterday, I noticed this little black bird pecking the same spot while I was talking to Alistair."

"How peculiar, mayhaps you are an apostate too and gained a familiar?" She pursed her lips to try and prevent a salacious grin, Morrigan sighed and paused in thought. "Do people truly believe in that?"

"Maybe amongst the Chasind, I think I remember an Avvar folktale mentioning mages with friends in the fauna. But I don't put much stock in tales. Unless that take swoops in like a bird and saves me from dying." Effie played with her tongue inside her teeth. The woman opposite her was mysterious, and didn't like to open up, that much was obvious. Yet she seemed curious.

"Ah..." An almost girlish giggle escaped her lips and she pressed them firmly, her cheeks creasing. "I would not have thought some simpering noble would be so observant."

Effie thought to take exception to the name calling but on second thought, realised that Morrigan was inferring that she was not a simpering brat. "So you like to eavesdrop."

"I should like to know how you do... That. You talk to people as if your mind is a blank slate that they can write their own version of you into. Already, I feel some sort of endearment to you, maybe even awe at how you manipulate them." Morrigan raised her chin a fraction. Her candour was refreshing, and Effie was right, the name calling was a test.

"I was raised to play in circles where people guard completely or not at all, by paranoid parents who thought I should be able to talk to a king as well as a beggar should the need arise." If she'd been in a chair, she'd have leaned back. "Their paranoia serves me well. Besides, everyone makes their own image of you based entirely on who you show them you are, so why give them the power on your identity?"

The witch smiled softly. "I... Appreciate your lack of pretence with me. But I can't fathom why you would bother to have them like you when you can control them in another way. But I would like you to teach me how to do this."

They shared a moment of quiet together. "Maybe, in a sense - it's control. If I hold my tongue and don't tell Alistair how selfish he sounds when he mourns a man he knew half a year when I recently saw my family bifurcated in the kitchen. Then he fetches me a bowl of stew, or offers to have first watch. He might even be kind in return if I have a minute that overwhelms me. I don't do it for the small returns, that would be nonsensical." She sighed deeply. "I don't know really. I put a lot of effort into maintaining a certain trust with people. Some day that trust might be tested and I'll need them to do something they find disagreeable."

Morrigan wet her lips. "Then understand that I already have an image of who you are in my mind. You are a girl who was taught to lead even if it was never her place, and who swallows her thoughts if she believes it should help her gain a flimsy piece of loyalty. Maybe you are more cynical than me if you think their loyalty is so easily won." The witch looked at her as if she was so sure of herself. It was a good summation. Outside, they could hear the rain pick up pace, heavier, more frequent drops.

"You're definitely right about me, I'm incredibly cynical." Effie grinned. Bodahn probably had a good notion too, that she was a slimy git by nature not nurture. He was planning on being slimier.

Morrigan chuckled. "Oh? So what do you make of me?"

"You only want to understand why we are." Effie said instantly, her brows knit together. "What I mean to say, is that you're frustrated that we aren't like characters in a book, acting like we should. And it terrifies you and makes you want to learn everything about us foreign creatures."

Morrigan blushed, her yellow eyes widened. As if by training, the tells of being found out faded, and were replaced with a smirk. "I think that you are terrifying and interesting. Everyone else I could not give a fig about."

"I think you should let them surprise you too. Maybe try to manipulate their preconceived ideas about you." Effie stretched out her back. "Anyway, as nice as it is to be read and to make a deal to teach a witch how to be a person, I have to go find out what stick is up Sten's backside." She pushed open the tent flap and her arm soaked through from the brief moment outside. It didn't sound that wet. "I'll going to run to my tent actually. The grumpy qunari can wait until tomorrow. Until we next talk then, Morrigan. But I'd like to know exactly why you looked so... Scared, earlier. Maybe next time.

"Tis not a concern. Speaking has been... Informative... Effie."

"Likewise." Effie dashed off into the rain. Maker it better stop by morning.


End file.
